


Attachment

by babykid528



Category: Star Trek RPF, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alcohol as a Coping Mechanism, Angst, Bisexual Male Character, Canonical Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Transference from Character to Actor, First Kiss, M/M, Star Trek: Into Darkness, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-02
Updated: 2014-02-02
Packaged: 2018-01-10 22:00:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1165037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babykid528/pseuds/babykid528
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While filming Into Darkness, Chris is having a hard time distinguishing between Kirk's feelings for Pike and his own feelings for Bruce.</p>
            </blockquote>





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**Author's Note:**

  * For [highflyerwings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/highflyerwings/gifts).



> Dedication: This is for my bff, highflyerwings, who is having a very rough day. She wanted someone to write emotional transference fic for these two. I hope you enjoy this first attempt at this, bb. *HUGS*  
> ST:ID was a rough movie for us Bruce fans. <3
> 
> BTW, there _will_ be a prequel to [Reunion](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1147666), but this fic is not it. 
> 
> Disclaimer: All depictions of people and situations in this fic are not real, just fictional caricatures and events. None of this actually happened.

Chris is bummed. More than bummed. Bummed is putting it mildly. He can’t even explain how mildly to you right now. Just. SO mildly! Okay? Like, he’s actually _immeasurably_ bummed!

 

And also, quite possibly, very fucking drunk.

 

( _Definitely_ very fucking drunk, if you ask Zach. But you shouldn’t ask Zach because he’s a pretentious douche and his opinion doesn’t matter right now because Chris is _fucking hella bummed_. Okay?)

 

“You need to stop internalizing all of Kirk’s feelings,” Zach tells him later that evening. He’s actually helping support Chris as he tries to open the front door to Chris’ house for him and Chris should be grateful to him for that. Instead, he blows a raspberry into Zach’s ear and ends up getting dropped into his foyer.

 

“Jesus, Christopher!” Zach yelps, wiping Chris’ saliva off of his face. “I swear to God, I’m never going out with you again if you’re going to act like this.”

 

Chris just waves him off. He was bummed when they first started drinking. Now that they’re finished, he’s downright melancholy. It is equal parts infuriating and pathetic. More pathetic than infuriating, actually, and that’s the only reason Zach doesn’t just leave him sprawled across his own floor.

 

“I’m really fucking bummed, Zach,” Chris says. He looks up at Zach, his eyes sad, his lips pouting, his whole countenance conveying the truth behind his words.

 

Zach sighs, “You look like Noah when he’s in trouble right now. Just in case you were wondering.”

 

“This is my very sad face,” Chris tells him.

 

Zach nods, “I see that. It is a very effective sad face.”

 

“Thanks,” Chris says, clearly moving on from obnoxiously-sad-drunk to polite-and-heartbreaking drunk.

 

“Please don’t start crying,” Zach says as he moves to help Chris back up off the ground finally.

 

“I can’t make any promises,” Chris replies.

 

“Just _try_ not to cry then,” Zach says, more gently.

 

Chris nods.

 

They do a weird kind of interpretive dance for a few minutes that ultimately results in Chris getting back to his two feet. He’s leaning heavily on the wall and Zach, but he’s upright and he’s only shed a few stray tears.

 

“I really need to stop internalizing Kirk’s emotions,” Chris says after a minute of silence.

 

Zach looks at him almost fondly and nods, “You do.”

 

“I do,” Chris says, nodding. “I also need to maybe throw up.”

 

“Oh Fuck!”

 

They make it to the bathroom before Chris brings up the contents of his stomach, but just barely. Zach leaves him to it, promising to return with helpful things in a moment. Chris groans in reply as he clings to the toilet. He hates life a little.

 

“Fuck,” he groans when he’s finished and Zach has returned.

 

“You’re regretting your decisions, I see,” Zach says.

 

“So much regret,” Chris agrees. “There will be even more tomorrow.”

 

Zach passes him a wad of toilet paper so Chris can wipe his mouth, then a cup of mouthwash so he can clean out the gross. Chris swishes it around and spits it into the toilet.

 

“Thanks,” he says, feebly.

 

“Don’t thank me yet,” Zach tells him as he shoves a sleeve of crackers and a bottle of water at Chris. “Drink and eat, slowly.”

 

Chris groans, his head spinning slightly and his stomach still churning.

 

He hears Zach sigh as he bites into the corner of a cracker.

 

“All of this over Bruce Greenwood.”

 

Chris swallows, difficultly. Suddenly Zach is running his fingers through Chris’ hair.

 

Chris looks up at him, pitiful and confused.

 

“You’re a fucking idiot man child,” Zach tells him. “But you deserve some comfort right now anyway.”

 

Chris leans toward Zach’s touch and closes his eyes.

 

“I can’t tell what I’m upset about and what Kirk’s upset about anymore,” Chris tells him. “I know I hate that we’re losing Bruce after this movie is done, but I don’t know if I’m upset because of that or because Kirk is losing Pike.”

 

“Why can’t it be both?” Zach asks then, scratching Chris’ scalp lightly.

 

“It can, I guess,” Chris says, “I’m just so confused.”

 

“It’s okay,” Zach says. “Maybe I shouldn’t have proposed drinking tonight.”

 

Chris nods.

 

“I’m going to hate myself in the morning,” He says, taking a bigger bite of cracker. He’s rapidly sobering up since getting sick and starting this conversation.

 

“Yeah,” Zach agrees, “You definitely will. Sorry, buddy.”

 

“I guess I deserve it,” Chris mumbles.

 

Zach pulls his hair gently and Chris opens his eyes to look at Zach again.

 

“That’s your problem right there,” Zach says, “You think you deserve pain for some reason. Did it ever occur to you that maybe pleasure is what you really deserve?”

 

Chris may be sobering up, but he’s still pretty damn drunk.

 

“Huh?” he asks, inelegantly.

 

“Kirk is losing Pike,” Zach explains. “For good. And while Bruce may not be coming back for any more sequels, you’re not actually losing _him_ , Chris. You should talk to him. Tell him how you feel. You have the chance. Take it instead of punishing yourself for no reason.”

 

“This is so fucking crazy,” Chris whines.

 

“It really is,” Zach agrees. “Now are you going to sleep in here or should we get you into your bed?”

 

“Bed,” Chris answers.

 

Zach smiles, “Good.”

 

* * *

 

 

Chris awakens to the fucking mother of all hangovers. Luckily, Nurse Zach is still on hand. At hand, actually. Zach is sprawled out beside Chris in bed and Chris is clinging to his side like he’s a lifeline.

 

“Fuck morning,” Chris moans as he tries to bury himself beneath the comforter they’re sharing.

 

Zach snuffles as he awakens and then drops a bottle of asprin and a bottle of Gatorade onto Chris’ chest.

 

“Oof!”

 

“Drink those,” Zach instructs, and Chris pulls the blanket off his head just long enough to do as he’s been told.

 

Zach climbs out of bed as Chris is recapping the Gatorade bottle.

 

“Go back to sleep,” he says, waving in Chris’ general direction, “I’ll make grease for breakfast.”

 

“Bless you, Nurse Zachary,” Chris praises him as Zach shuffles out of the room.

 

In half an hour, Chris is presented with a tray of fried eggs, crisp bacon, and heavily buttered toast.

 

“You are a god amongst men,” Chris tells him.

 

“I am,” Zach agrees as he steals a piece of Chris’ toast.

 

“How much sex do I owe you for this, Doctor Zach?” Chris asks.

 

“Ah, I’ve been promoted from nurse to doctor. Excellent.”

 

“Don’t tell Karl,” Chris says, “but you’re a much better doctor than he is.”

 

Zach grins into his coffee mug, “Noted.”

 

Chris swipes the mug from him after Zach finishes his sip and takes a sip of his own.

 

“No sex owed, friend,” Zach answers after some consideration, “Watching you suffer through the bright lens flare today while we shoot will be recompense enough.”

 

“You’re such a sadist,” Chris says.

 

Zach just nods, smiling, and takes back his coffee, “I really am.”

 

* * *

 

They’re filming the scene between Chris and Bruce in the bar first thing when they get to set that day.

 

This is why Chris and Zach spent the night before drinking.

 

Zach, despite what a stupid idea it had been to get completely drunk the night before a full day of filming, suggested that very course of action because Chris is a fucking mess about the scene coming up in the afternoon shoot. The one where Admiral Pike dies.

 

To be fair, Zach is upset, too. The whole cast is. They really are a family and no one wants to see Bruce go. But no one wants to see him go less than Chris.

 

Chris, who is hopelessly, endearingly smitten with Bruce.

 

Zach calls it endearing, anyway. Or, at least, he had called it endearing before it caused Chris to practically drown himself in bourbon and coke.

 

Zach’s words from the night before echo throughout Chris’ aching head as he is made up and dressed up for the morning shoot: _“Tell him how you feel.”_ As if it were that easy. As if Chris could just waltz up to Bruce, tap him on the shoulder, and say, “Just so you know, I might be a little in love with you, possibly.”

 

This is a fucking blockbuster movie set, Bruce is a god, Chris is a supposedly “straight” womanizer, Bruce is married, Chris isn’t a teenage girl. (Maybe if he was a teenage girl he’d have the balls to actually say something to Bruce.)

 

No. There is no way Chris could just tell Bruce anything.

 

He does his damnedest to get Zach’s voice out of his head and just focus on the scene as he waits for J.J. to call action. It should be a quick scene to film, thankfully. No choreography to pin down, just emotional dialogue at a bar.

 

Just. Ha.

 

Bruce arrives on set roughly five minutes after Chris.

 

“You’re lucky you’re not in uniform for this, Chris,” Bruce says in friendly greeting, “You get to look like James Dean and I’m sweating in polyester.”

 

Chris tries to grin but it must come off more like a grimace.

 

“Yeah, exactly,” Bruce says on a laugh.

 

Chris preys to whatever higher power might be out there that he won’t spend the entire morning half-hard and blushing.

 

They settle in to film the scene and the first take is just a wreck.

 

“Party a little too hard last night, Chris?” J.J. asks, scowling ever so slightly.

 

Chris gives him a contrite look.

 

J.J. just shakes his head and calls for another take from the beginning.

 

The second is possibly even worse than the first.

 

“Stop being so stiff,” J.J. calls out, “Tap into those emotions. We know you can, Pine.”

 

“Sorry,” Chris says, “I will.”

 

They move back into position to start from the beginning of the scene again. Before Bruce leaves the stage though, he grips the back of Chris’ neck and leans in close.

 

“You okay?” he asks.

 

Chris blinks at him.

 

“Yeah,” he assures, “I’m fine. I’m still fighting off the hangover fog. I’m sorry. This take will be better.”

 

Bruce doesn’t look entirely convinced that Chris is all right, but he squeezes the nape of Chris’ neck and leaves the stage without another word anyway. Chris looks out at the crew and takes a deep breath. Off to the side, he can just make out Zach’s silhouette. He is watching the scene, even though he should still be in make up.

 

Suddenly, Chris can’t fight back the emotions he’s been suppressing during the scene any longer. When J.J. calls action again, Chris is a roiling mess of angst channeled into some brilliant body language and vocal inflection.

 

Every look, every word, every watery eye is charged with the feeling Chris admitted to Zach the night before.

 

“Cut,” J.J. yells at the end of the scene. He looks ecstatic, “Perfect! That was perfect! Let’s do it a few more times, just like that!”

 

Chris studiously does not make eye contact with Bruce between takes for the remainder of the morning. He doesn’t look out to see if Zach is still watching either. He just focuses on himself and the feelings he is fighting in equal measure to both contain and reveal.

 

When they finish and break for lunch, Chris makes a beeline for his trailer.

 

Zach is waiting for him on the couch when Chris enters.

 

“Fuck my fucking life, man,” Chris gasps, taking a few deep breathes. The first deep breathes it feels like he’s taken all day.

 

“Christopher,” Zach shakes his head, “You are a fucking mess.”

 

“I fucking know!” Chris tells him, flailing his arms out, “Of course, I fucking know!”

 

Zach stands.

 

“You need to have a dialogue with that man, Christopher,” he says, “You need to have it with him now. Or you’re going to crash and burn during that scene this afternoon and the entire cast and crew are going to know exactly what feelings you’ve been hiding, all at once, including him.”

 

There is a knock on the trailer door before Chris can respond.

 

Zach opens it.

 

“Oh, Zach,” Bruce’s voice drifts around Zach’s figure.

 

Chris’ lungs constrict.

 

“Sorry,” Bruce continues, “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

 

“You didn’t,” Zach assures him, “I was just leaving, actually. Come on in.”

 

And with that, Zach ushers Bruce inside the trailer as he steps out of it. Chris is suddenly trapped in a small space with the one man he really can’t stand to see right now.

 

“Chris,” Bruce says, trying but failing to start a conversation.

 

There are a number of ways this could play out. A number of things Chris could do. He could feign that he is fine, suggest they grab some food, act like an actual actor and pretend the feelings aren’t real and hope they might actually become not-real. He could just kick Bruce out. He could run away screaming. He could avoid everything and not have any conversation, fake or real. He could listen to Zach and actually address the problem head on.

 

Or he could sit down on the couch and bury his face in his hands and tremble like a baby.

 

Apparently that last one is the option his brain decides he should go with.

 

“Chris,” Bruce says his name again, and the couch dips as he sits beside him.

 

Bruce’s hand is spread wide on Chris’ back, rubbing soothing circles, before Chris can even react.

 

“What’s wrong?” Bruce asks.

 

“Fuck,” Chris swears.

 

“Come on, you can talk to me,” Bruce says. “Just pretend I’m Pike.”

 

Chris groans, “That would definitely not help.”

 

“What’s happening with you?” Bruce asks, confused.

 

“I’m losing my fucking mind,” Chris answers. “Apparently.”

 

“How can I help?” Bruce asks. “I really want to help… or I could go get Zach again.”

 

“No,” Chris shakes his head, “Not Zach. Please. He’s so useless right now.”

 

Bruce snorts.

 

“Trouble in paradise?” He asks.

 

Chris is so startled at the question that he actually looks up at Bruce at that.

 

“What?” he asks. “Do you think Zach and I are dating? Zach and I aren’t dating.”

 

It is Bruce’s turn to be confused.

 

“I’m sorry,” he says, clearly completely caught off guard, “I heard rumors and I thought…”

 

“No way,” Chris says, emphatically. “We’re just really good friends who have little to no boundaries. It’s kind of annoying sometimes. I would trade him for a pet rock right now, actually. At least the rock wouldn’t give me horrible advice.”

 

Bruce grins, “Maybe I can give better advice then?”

 

Chris, in his rambling, has said too much. His cheeks turn hot.

 

“I really don’t think so,” he replies.

 

Bruce’s face falls a little.

 

“Okay,” he says and pulls his hand back. He stands then and straightens out his costume, “I’ll give you some space then.”

 

He turns toward the door and Chris’ stomach lurches.

 

“Dammit,” Chris sighes, “Wait.”

 

Bruce turns back around.

 

Chris rubs his face with his palms and lets out a low growl before standing up and just spitting out what is on his mind.

 

“I’m a fucking mess because I don’t want Pike to die.”

 

Bruce looks startled for a moment before his features soften.

 

“I don’t want Pike to die either,” he says, “but, you know, for the character arch, it’s necessary-”

 

“I don’t care!” Chris exclaims, cutting off Bruce’s reasonable explanation. “I don’t care if it’s the most important moment in all of Kirk’s miserable life for him to lose his mentor figure forever. I don’t care. I don’t want to lose you. You, Bruce. I don’t want to lose _you_.”

 

Bruce looks gob-smacked and then, instantly, grief-stricken.

 

“Is that why you went drinking last night?” he asks.

 

Chris nods, miserably.

 

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

 

Chris huffs.

 

“Because that would have been the logical thing to do,” he says. “The thing Zach kept telling me to do. But really, how exactly was I supposed to go and do that? I mean. Tell me. Do I just walk up to you and say I think I might be a little in love with you? But I can’t be sure because Kirk might just be a little in love with Pike, and my feelings are all mixed up. But you’re gorgeous and I, at the very least, want you to fuck me senseless. At least once. And even if we’re just friends I’m going to miss you so fucking bad after this scene is over, it feels like I might not be able to breathe right ever again. Do I just walk up to you, like this, and say all that?”

 

Chris takes a few steps forward, so he is nose to nose with Bruce. He stares at his costar, his friend, and begs him with a look to answer him.

 

Bruce keeps his answer short and sweet.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Yeah?” Chris asks.

 

“Yes,” Bruce says, looking a little like danger before he leans forward and pulls Chris into a rough kiss.

 

It’s cliché as hell, but it steals all the air right out of Chris’ lungs, that first moment when Bruce’s lips touch his. He feels lightheaded, like the whole thing is some hangover induced hallucination.

 

“I drank half a bar last night because of you,” Chris tells him, breaking the kiss.

 

“That was a stupid thing to do,” Bruce replies.

 

“I know,” Chris groans, “I am a fucking idiot.”

 

“I don’t think you are,” Bruce says.

 

Chris looks at him, just looks, and Bruce cups Chris’ face in his palms.

 

“I’m going to cry later,” Chris says, voice tense and embarrassed, chest aching, “When we film the thing.”

 

“I know,” Bruce nods. “I will too.”

 

“It’s not fair,” Chris says, aware of how completely stupid those words sound. Of course it isn’t fair. Life isn’t fair. Fairness has nothing to do with it.

 

Bruce doesn’t have anything to say to that, apparently. Instead of speaking, he leans in and kisses Chris again. Deeper, this time. He angles Chris’ head and licks past Chris’ lips.

 

Chris reaches out and clings to Bruce’s hips as Bruce does his best to reassure Chris without words.

 

Chris knows he doesn’t have to lose Bruce just because Kirk is losing Pike. It still feels all kinds of horrible though, thinking about it. Knowing what Kirk is losing. Feeling like what Kirk is losing, Chris is losing it too. But Bruce’s hands on his face and neck, his mouth on Chris’ mouth, provide some balm to the ache. Chris will cling to that for now.


End file.
